Aren't You Hot?
by Elillierose
Summary: After a run in with a few bullies from his school, a young Prompto tries to hide the damage from view the next day only to end up looking even more questionable. This is my take on if Prompto and Noctis met and got to know each other at a younger age.


**Beta read by: SinikkavonWolperting**

 **Day six for FFXVWeek**

 **Prompt: What Are You Wearing?!**

 **I just wanna make it clear again, that this does involve bullying, and it focuses on weight-related bullying. Just a warning, since I know it's a sensitive subject for some, and it is not my intent to make anyone feel uneasy. And, I'm not sure why, but I've never gone through this kind of stuff, but I had the hardest time writing this.**

* * *

Prompto sat there, camera held between chubby fingers as he scrolled through that days photos; there was nothing exactly breath-taking about these, but the provided him with enough of a distraction, enough of an excuse to not interact with the other kids. He wasn't even paying attention to the images before him, staring at them aimlessly as the time ticked by, just waiting for the bell so he could slip out and be on his way back home. Every now and then, blue orbs would flit up to glance at the snailing hands, then right back down to his camera screen; his index finger quickly fell into a consistent tap of impatience.

As he scrolled absentmindedly through his shots, he was jolted out of his reverie as his desk was bumped into, the piece of furniture sliding a small amount. Curious, he glanced up, one of the other students staring back. Neither said a word, but the kid did have a bit of an apologetic look in his eyes. Before either could utter a word, the telltale beep sounded out, and Prompto took that as his chance to bail. Stuffing his camera away, he pulled his bag over his shoulder and wasted no time in heading to the exit.

Outside, he paused for a few seconds, a small gathering of people to his right drawing his attention. Glancing over, he could easily make out the prince himself, surrounded by other children, all of which were bombarding him with questions and requesting his company and the like. The moment those twilight eyes drifted to look at him, his nerves got the better of him, his arms tightened around his books, and he turned on the spot. The need to get out of there and avoid any unwanted awkwardness became his top priority.

By the time he was out the front entrance, he was out of breath, and he had no choice but to pause and lean against the outside of the building in order to catch his breath. A few beads could be felt tickling the side of his face, and without even looking, he could feel the sideways glances he was receiving. It was utterly humiliating, and he felt as though everyone's eyes were on him. Biting his lip out of anxious habit, he pushed himself away, and began heading in the direction of his home as quickly as he could, he was just ready to get out of this place as soon as possible.

The blond glanced around a few times, and only slowed to a more comfortable pace once he was sure he was out of view of others. He stopped to lean forward and took a few deep breaths to calm down before straightening back up. Upon looking forward, he took an involuntary step back. "What's the rush for?", the black-haired kid in front of him questioned, clearly not interested in an answer.

Prompto said nothing, and instead tried to round him, eager to ignore him and go on with his day. He only made it a step before a grip on the collar of his shirt jolted him to a halt, and he coughed against the motion as it pulled against his neck. "Hey, he asked you a question," another kid reminded, this one having rusty colored hair, "I think you should answer him."

"I-I'm just heading home," he stammered, stumbling forward once the hold on his shirt was released. This time when he attempted to head around, an arm was stretched out before him, the other kid staying behind him, blocking any chance he had at slipping away.

The one behind him, the black-haired one, who also happened to be the tallest of the three, folded his arms over his chest. Without saying a word, he stepped closer and placed his hands on his shoulders. "You know," he whispered, "They say the bigger you are, the harder you fall. I wonder how true that is." He didn't give Prompto more warning than that before giving a solid shove, and he most likely would have lost his balance if it weren't for the other kid in front of him.

"Hey, I need a bit of warning before you do that," the brown-haired one chuckled, "Need time to brace myself." Prompto felt a small pang at the comment, but he refused to let it show.

"I really need to go now," he tried, borderlining a small beg. He could feel them both staring at him, his own gaze unable to meet theirs as it remained locked onto the pavement. His entire body felt tense and unsure, he felt almost frozen in place; afraid of making the slightest movement. "S'cuse me," he muttered, bowing his head even more and inching his foot.

And, again, those hands were back on him, warning him not to try anything. "I didn't say you could go yet," the taller one slowly shook his head, and pushed Prompto again, this time however, the other one stepped aside to let him hit the ground. He barely got his hands out before him to catch himself in time, but he still fell hard enough for his hands to slip and could feel the rough surface scrape against his arms.

"Hold your horses, we just wanna talk for a bit, that's all," the main one crouched down, and kicked aside the blond's books in the process. "Why are you in such a rush to get home, afraid you'll miss dinner?" He made sure to emphasis his point by poking him right in his midsection.

Prompto's breathing picked back up, his eyes stinging ever so slightly as he subtly tried to flinch away. "What's wrong, you gonna cry now?" the other asked, giving the blond a solid kick to his back. It didn't take long before the main kid joined in, a cacophony of inconsiderate comments accentuating some of the strikes, but most went unheard as he focused on blocking his face with his arms.

And, he was unsure how long this went on for, but by the time they had stopped, he was left curled up and on the verge of sobbing on the ground. "Pathetic," the taller kid snorted, "You can go home now. That's it," he urged as Prompto slowly worked his way up to his hands and knees, "Go on back home so you can eat your problems away."

He remained in his down position, unable to will himself to push himself up yet; shaky and uncertain arms barely managed to hold him up as his fingers tried to dig into the street. Even as he no longer heard their footsteps, he stayed there until shadows began to creep along. It wasn't until the first sound of a bird, chirping out to signal the approaching evening that he finally staggered his way up. Slowly, he brushed himself up and gathered his stuff back up, most of which was now bent and scuffed.

Even in the dark, he could back out a few discolored patches on his arm, and in the poor lighting, and through blurred vision, he couldn't tell if it was bruising or scrapes. With everything held close to his chest, he began walking again, his pace much slower and sluggish than before, his heart pounding against his ribs from adrenaline that still lingered behind. He just wanted to hide under his covers and never leave, that was his only goal at the moment, the only thing he cared about.

The entire way home, he had completely blanked out, his sore body working on autopilot while his mind preoccupied itself with rerunning those kid's words over and over, and his pulse quickened with each replay. It seemed like a lifetime before he reached his front door, and he made a beeline for the key hidden away under the mat. As soon as he was over the threshold, the door was shut and locked behind him, his back against it as he slowly slid down to lean against it. Knees drawn up, he wrapped his arms around them and held them close as his forehead touched against them. That was it, he couldn't hold it together anymore, and no in the safety of his own home, he wasn't afraid to let it all out.

By the time he was done, he was absolutely exhausted, he could barely keep his eyes open, and he didn't even know what time it was. But, he knew he had to have been there for a while; long enough, he decided. Finally drained, he hefted himself back up, the back of his right hand swiping over his eyes to rid them of any leftover moisture as he sniffed roughly through his nose and slowly breathed back out. Dragging his feet, he wandered towards his room, leaving his books and other things in a heap next to the door; whatever homework he had, it wasn't getting done, that was for sure.

Despite his utter fatigued state, sleep didn't come as easily as he had hoped or expected. Every time he turned, his arms would burn slightly, or his sides would ache. And then, to his dismay, there was the occasional complaint from his stomach, and he remembered he had skipped eating anything. He wrapped his arms around himself and turned to face the wall. "Shuddup," he mumbled, reaching down to tug the cover over his face.

* * *

Prompto wasn't sure when it happened, but he must have managed to get at least a little bit of sleep, because the next thing he knew, his alarm was blaring next to him. He was still tired, feeling as though he never went at all, but he also knew he couldn't miss any school. There was no choice but to just tough it out and get over it, no point in lying there all day sulking, no matter how appealing that may have sounded at the time. Rolling out of bed, the extent of the events from the previous day made themselves known, and he hissed under his breath and glanced down at his arms. They were practically littered with bruises and scrapes.

He couldn't go back like that, he already got sideways glances and chuckles as it were; if he were to show himself like this, he didn't want to think about what would come from it. His eyes flitted to the mirror, and he swallowed thickly as he sat up. Eyes ever left it as he made his way over to it, his hands hesitantly removed his shirt. Instantly, he had to look away, and it wasn't just the marks on his body that bothered him. Balling his fists up, he strolled quickly over to his dresser and searched for something a bit more suitable, and his hands glided over one of his sweaters; attire which was intended solely for the colder months.

For a moment, he thought about digging a bit more, but once he caught sight of the condition of his arms again, he snatched it from its place. There was no more thought put into it once it was over his head and pulled down over his form. The sleeves were just long enough to hide everything on his arms aside from a bit of purple peeking out from beneath the left side. It wasn't too noticeable though, so he didn't worry about that too much. He glanced at himself in the mirror again, and he still looked a bit odd, but at least it was better than going to school looking like he did.

On his way out, Prompto glanced in the direction of the kitchen and instantly turned back away; 'You can afford to skip breakfast,' he told himself with a sigh, and swiftly left his house before his changed his mind. As he stepped out, he started to regret the wardrobe choice, still early and it was already quite warm out. But, he'd live, if it meant he got to keep a little bit of his dignity...what little was left, then he could deal with it.

Just like he had predicted, he was receiving a few glances and could hear a bit of chatter, and the self-conscious feeling that came from it made him want to run back home and lock himself away. Ignoring it was quite a bit more difficult than he assumed it would have been. He sunk down ever so slightly, trying to appear smaller than he was and evade curious stares and slinked into the front of the school. There was still a bit of time before the first bell, but he craved those moments of peace he'd get from getting to class early.

Dropping down into his desk, he deposited his belongings and slid down in his seat, his hands resting on top of them as his thumbs fiddled together. One after another, other students began filtering in; if any of them had cut their eyes over, he didn't noticed, he refused to lift his gaze until class actually started, after everyone had their chance to get a good look at him. As the lecture started, he peered over his booked, only half paying attention to the words being spoken, unable to concentrate due to both his self-awareness and from his discomfort from his outfit.

To say he was warm was an understatement, he could feel how much he was actually sweating under the thick fabric, and he just prayed no one noticed it. For the entirety of that class, he sat there and suffered through it, never once shifting or fanning himself; knowing that if he did, he would appear even more ridiculous for clearly being hot and still choosing to keep that thing on. Hours ticked by, and he could feel a couple beads trickle down the back of his neck. Just when he thought he couldn't handle it much longer, the sweet dismissal of the bell rang.

For once, he was leaving his seat before the other students, and he was pretty sure he was out the door and headed for the bathroom before anyone else had the chance to leave their desk. Prompto darted into the first bathroom he came across without hesitation and swiftly shut himself in one of the stalls where he peeled his sweater away. The relief from it was instantaneous, and dropping it at his feet, he began fanning himself. At least it was Friday, so hopefully enough of the bruising would be gone by the time the weekend was over and he could go back to normal clothes.

He froze at the sound of more footsteps entering, his ears perking as he listened intently, and a small amount of tension leaked away when there weren't any others. Just one person then. He sighed out and snatched his sweater back up and pulled it back over him, tugging at the bottom to make sure it looked straight enough. Even though he didn't actually use the bathroom, he still flushed just so whoever it was wouldn't think it odd when he stepped out as stopped at the sink to wash his hands as well.

The blond never looked to see who the person was, so when the words, "What's with the sweater?" sounded out to his right, he jumped slightly as he turned to face them.

Prompto gasped from the surprise, stepping back and losing his footing right away. Before he knew what was happening, he was on his back with a raven-haired boy hovering over him and staring down. That's when it snapped as to who it was. "Uh, you alright?" Noctis asked, raising an eyebrow, his hand extending in an offer to help him up.

"Y-yeah," he stuttered nervously, reluctantly taking the presented hand.

With a stifled grunt, the prince pulled him up, a 'You're heavy,' whispered under his breath, and he didn't miss the minor flash of hurt across his face. He was about to correct that when his eyes wandered down to the hand that was still held in his own, and he noticed the slight purple mark just under his left sleeve. "What's that?" he asked, using his other hand to pinch at the fabric, intending to lift it away.

"Nothing," he blurted, yanking his arm away to pull it close to his chest. He realized that getting defensive over it probably wasn't the best idea. "I-I should get going," he said, feeling awkward and suddenly overly shy about the whole situation.

Noctis ignored him though, "Aren't you hot in that?" he glanced up and down, an eyebrow raised. "It's still summer," he needlessly reminded, an edge of incredulousness to his tone.

"No, I'm not," he lied, the slight sheen to his face giving way to the truth. There was a pained and unwanted silence the stretched out between the two of them, which was only broken by the next bell. "I don't want to be late," he uttered quietly, grabbing his things off the counter and rushing out, leaving a confused prince in his wake.

He didn't look back, he was too humiliated, he made an utter fool of himself back there, and in front of the prince no less, how could anyone have messed up to such a degree as that? His feet hurriedly brought him to his next class, and just like the first one, he sneaked into his seat, this time just seconds before the next bell rang. He was out of breath from the speed of which he rushed over, and his shirt was sticking to his back now.

Another hour and a half went by with nothing but miserable silence, and the consequences of skipping two meals in a row was starting to catch up with him as his body made it known that it didn't appreciate his stubborness. Embarrassed, and hoping no one heard, he dropped his forehead down against his desk, hiding away his face. This couldn't have been going by any slower than it was, and he could have sworn the gods were against him. After just another thirty minutes, the signal for lunch sounded out over the speakers, and this time he didn't move, not until he was sure he was alone.

His departure was much slower this time around, no longer in a rush to get out, now he was more focused on lingering behind the crowds as they all cheerfully and eagerly headed towards the cafeteria. Of course, he headed that way as well, but with the few minutes he waited, he was free to walk without many around. He kept his head down, gaze on the floor as he moved. So, it should have been no surprise when he smacked right into someone.

"Hey, what th-" he cut himself off when he turned around, "Oh, it's you again." Prompto instantly recognized it as Noctis again. What was with his luck today, again, he made an idiot of himself in front of the prince.

"Sorry!" he nervously exclaimed, looking away and going to head around. But, the raven called out for him to wait a minute, and without thinking, he complied. "Hmm?" he asked, his nerves out of control.

"You never answered my question earlier," he stated flatly.

Prompto's eyes widened slightly, "Uhh, nothing else was clean," he said the first thing that came to mind. And it was painfully obvious as well. "It's...all I could find," he continued to roll with the fabricated excuse anyway.

"Then what's with the bruise," he went one with the questions, determined to get a straight answer out of the kid eventually.

The blond glanced down to his wrist, the way he was holding his book causing his sleeve to ride up just enough for more of the bruise to be seen. "I'm clumsy," he looked away again, "I'm sure you've noticed." He moved his weight from one foot to the other, visibly becoming uncomfortable.

"I don't think I believe that," Noctis spoke exactly what was on his mind, "Did someone do that?" The silence he received as a response was answer enough. "Who?" he pressed, the idea of someone doing this to someone else not sitting well with him.

Prompto, if it were possible, appeared to be more uneasy with the request. "No one," he replied, not wanting this to get out of hand; he figured it best to just forget any of that ever happened and just let it be. "Don't worry about it, it's over with," he mumbled, arms unwittingly tightening around his things.

The prince narrowed his eyes, but chose not to pry; if the guy didn't want to talk about it, then he wouldn't make him. "I'm heading out to eat," he gestured towards the back of the school, "So, if you want to join, then it's fine."

The idea of it was enough to lift some of the tension, but there was still the ever present anxious and overbearing cloud that nagged him about how it was a bad decision. But, he found himself agreeing to it without his conscious consent. He guess he craved to not be alone that much tat he was willing to jump at the first invitation at company. Luckily, the other didn't seem bothered by his instant compliance, didn't seem to find it too out of the ordinary in the slightest, and he couldn't help but be thankful for that.

Noctis lead them somewhere out back, and he was genuinely surprised to see that there was no one else out here, it was as if it was a place that was unheard of by others in the school. Without a word, the raven plopped himself down against the side of the building, already taking his bento from his bag and opened it to reveal a meal more beautiful than Prompto had seen in real life before. And, of course, his empty stomach chose that moment to agree with him.

The other glanced up at the sound, and noticed the redness that colored the blonds face, though he couldn't tell if it was from his humiliation or from how hot he had to be in that sweatshirt. "Wanna try some?" he asked, plucking one of the rice balls and handed out for him to take.

Prompto stared at it for a moment, desperately wanting to try it, but he quickly declined, "I'm not hungry." He settled himself next to the prince, but made sure there was still some distance between the two of them.

"You sure?" Noctis pressed, "It's pretty good." He offered again, and this time the other took it. Though, he told himself it was just out of the fact that he didn't want to be rude and it had nothing to do with him starving. He reluctantly bit into it, and his eyes lit up; so much flavor for something so simple. "Told you. The guy may be annoying, but can't deny he can cook."

Prompto hummed in agreement as he took another bite; this was repeated until it was gone. "So, still not gonna tell me how that happened?" he didn't need to specify, they both knew exactly what he was talking about.

The blond looked down again, his right hand going to his left sleeve as he slid it up, revealing more than just a bruise. "Just...well, look at me," he muttered, "I'm an easy target." The prince's gaze wandered over the various marks, which he had no idea, he had assumed it was just the one bruise.

"Is your other arm the same?" he asked, his voice showing clearly his discontent with what he was slowly understanding. Prompto nodded, but didn't show him, didn't have to, Noctis took his word for it. "Do you know who did that?" his brows furrowed.

The other shook his head, "No. I didn't know them." It was true though, he'd seen them around, always glancing at him, laughing to one another, and he always knew they were cracking jokes, but he never confronted them about it. Noctis wanted to ask more, but that signal blared again, and just like before, the other was urgently wanting to hurry to class, so he let him go; there'd be another chance before the end of the day to get answers out of him.

* * *

Prompto went through this class in much the same manner as the others, the same misery that came with his wardrobe, the same glances from other students, and the same wishing the time would hurry up. Towards the end of class, he resorted to his usual habit of scrolling through his camera through the last few minutes, the free time they always gave them at the end of this one. And, he repeated the same process as the last, darting away the moment he was free to go and instantly made his way out the front where he paused to catch his breath.

He stood there, back against the building with his eyes closed; a jolt ran through him at the less than gentle touch on his shoulder. "Well, well, well," came that dragging and blood-chilling voice, "If it isn't pudgy." Prompto's eyes snapped open and darted over to stare back at hazel ones. "Didn't think it was possible for you to be even more noticeable, but I've been proven wrong. What kind of fashion choice is this anyway?" he asked, pulling at the neck of his shirt.

"What do you want?" the blond asked, unable to control the tremble in his voice.

"Who said I wanted anything?" he shrugged, mockingly, "Maybe I just want to get to know you. Sometimes I wonder if you can think of anything else other food," he laughed at his own poor sense of humor, and Prompto felt that familiar tightening of his voice.

Before he could utter a response, another grip joined in, but this time it was a hand grasping the other kid's wrist. "What's going on over here?" he heard Noctis' voice ask. The kid didn't answer, so the prince then turned to Prompto. "Hey, you still wanna come over, right?" he asked with a subtle wink that only the blond could see.

"Y-yeah," he replied, a bit shocked. And, it seemed to work, the other instantly backed down, knowing better than to mess with the heir to the thrown, not wanting to see what the consequences of that were.

"Oh," the raven stopped mid turn to twirl on his heel to face back towards the black-haired kid, and without warning, his fist connected with the side of his cheek, knocking him off balance. Shaking his hand, Noctis glared at him, "I think you should think about these things before you get yourself into trouble." He didn't say a word as he rubbed his cheek, redness already blossoming over it.

Looking back to Prompto, he cocked his head to the side, and the blond looked out in the direction of the road. Right out front was parked a rather fancy looking vehicle with a man standing right outside of it. His attention wasn't on them, most likely unable to see them towards the slowly dissipating crowd. "Come on," Noctis began strolling towards it, "I'm sure Glacies won't mind dropping you off."

As they reached it, the bespectacled man greeted, a curious eye drifting to the prince's...follower. "Oh, this is, uh..." he realized he never actually got a name.

"Umm," he blanked for a moment, totally overwhelmed by what was happening, "I'm...I'm Prompto," he nearly whispered, his crippling shyness causing his voice to crack.

"Think you can drop him off?" Noctis asked, an unspoken reason for such a request clear in his voice, and Glacies assumed he'd get an explanation for this later. If not, he'd ask him for one anyway.

The brunet bowed curtly, "Certainly, Your Highness." He straightened back up and opened the back door, gesturing for the prince to hop in, and once he was in, cast a gaze over to the other. It took Prompto a moment to realize he meant for him to join him in there, and he felt his chest flutter with the meaning of it.

"Oh," he blurted, wasting no more time before entering. Without thinking, he placed himself as close to the door as possible, feeling so out of place in here, and he had a hard time believing this was even real. "Are you sure about this? I don't live that far away," he said, insinuation that walking wasn't that big of a deal.

"It's fine," Noctis assured, "Besides, pretty sure those guys won't mess with you anymore after this," he shrugged so casually, like this was nothing major.

The front door opened as the prince's chauffeur slid in, "So, Prompto, where is it that you live?" He gazed at him in the rear view mirror, noticing the way he fidgeted under his reflected gaze. Quickly and quietly, he relayed the directions to his place. It was hard to catch, but it was understood well enough; and with a nod, the car was started, and they were off.

It didn't take long before they were halfway there, and Prompto glanced over to the other, "Uh, thanks. Thanks for...that, back there," he mumbled, his eyes immediately falling down to stare at the empty seat between them.

"Don't mention it," he brushed off, "Just can't stand people like that." He placed an elbow against the door and rested his head in his hand, "If it happens again though, don't just take it like that, or it's just gonna get worse."

The blond nodded and hummed his understanding. He knew Noctis was right, sometimes...all of the time, he was just a push over. "I won't," he promised, a tug tempting the corner of his mouth. "I still, you know, appreciate it," he added, not knowing how to deal with this; it was the first time someone actually stood up instead of watching form the sidelines, so he didn't know what to think of this change. He glanced out the window, his house now within view. The thought of finally being able to change into something more forgiving eliciting a sigh of relief.

Before he got out, Noctis called out for him again. "Hey," he dug in his bag and retrieved his bento from earlier, "I still have leftovers from lunch, and they'll just go to waste. So, if you want them..." he offered, holding it out for him to take.

"Thank you," Prompto gingerly accepted it, not wanting to offend him, and honestly wanting to try some more of it after that first taste. And, it didn't hurt considering all he had was that one rice ball all day. They said their goodbyes, and gave their small waves before they were gone again. Chewing on the inside of his lip, he glanced down at the box stacked on top of his books and then back at the car as it slowly drove out of view. For the first time that day, a small and genuine smile graced his features, and he turned to head inside.


End file.
